


Paradise

by WanderingTiff



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingTiff/pseuds/WanderingTiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean wakes up in his run-down apartment in the commoner section of town to for once find that he is not as pissed at the corrupted society as he thought he would be. After years of resisting, he found an ally in the most unlikely place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bygoneboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bygoneboy/gifts).



_The sun burns moderately in the_ sky, like it does every morning. It is never anything out of the ordinary. The temperature is mildly warm, and the morning light illuminates the desolate streets of the city. The area is vacant. No one is allowed outside their houses before nine in the morning. The only people that can are officials and the postmen that make their daily rounds while citizens take their time getting dressed and ready for the day in their homes.

The slightly ajar ash-colored curtains let in the sunlight, its rays just reaching the twin-sized mattress with scattered sheets that just cover the nether regions of the two men sleeping on it. Their bodies are so close, and their arms only pull them closer. As the clock ominously sounds that it is seven in the morning, the blonde that is closer to it reaches and turns off the alarm. He stretches, not wanting to leave the sweet warmth that is radiating next to him. The gentle heat wraps all around him and keeps him still on the mattress. Trying to pull away would be impossible.

He glances at the sleeping man next to him, the gentle specks on his body adding a sweet glow about him. In just one night, this man has become his entire world. Just one night going undercover at the Christmas Eve banquet leads him to the blissful reunion that has to be from deep within his sweetest dreams. And he hasn’t had those types of dreams in a long time.

The only downside to this ecstatic night is that he knows who this man is. Marco Bodt. The son of the Vice President, who is his resistance’s worst enemy. That man is the one that goes against everything that they are trying to fight for. After the current President loses their power, everything that controlled this “peaceful” society will multiply by _scores_ and cause a massive corruption in the system.

And yet, Jean Kirschtein, the leader of the Resistance after succeeding his late brother, has just slept with the Vice President’s son.

It gives this event a certain thrill. He can’t believe that it turned out this way, of course. But that entire night was worth it after being able to see this man. The only times that they met each other were when Marco just so happened to be heading into the city to run errands for his father. He always had guards around him, out of well-judged paranoia that there could be people out to kill him.

There definitely were.

That was his mission when he went to the heart of Trost City, where there was a council meeting between the officials. He had been slinking back in the shadows, out of sight and completely out of mind. He was always careful, and his target was just yards away. But only one thing was keeping him from pulling the trigger on his revolver. And that was the boy’s smile.

No one ever smiles around here anymore. There was no need to, after all. When someone is perfectly content, why should anyone have any thrill showing on their facial expression? Why should anyone wear a frown to express a sudden sadness when there is absolutely nothing “wrong” in their lives? Why should there be tears to water down an already simple complexion? Why should there be laughter ringing throughout the streets?

That boy’s smile was the first time that he had ever seen real emotion from anyone in this damn town. The Capital, of all places.

So instead of turning to murder, he decides to take a more casual approach and get him to hear his side of the story. To hear about a better life.

They were only able to talk to each other a few times without his guards being there and a complete nuisance. And after just a half-hour discussing in hiding during the national lunch sweep, Jean realized that this man was nothing like the father that he greatly despised. But it only ever got to that far before they had to hurry about their business.

Another lunch sweep, this time more coffee. Everyone stayed in their homes like usual while the imperial sweepers with their hounds scanned the streets to make sure that there were no stragglers. Jean had lost seven men to the sweepers, and he still had yet to find out where they took them. That was another thing his resistance was trying to figure out. But he and Marco were hiding in the shadows in an abandoned church, just talking. Jean never revealed his real occupation, not sure if he could trust this man of course. Marco was always so eager to hear what he had to say, though. He knew that Jean was most definitely a common folk, and yet he still talked to him. That was definitely a plus.

Things just escalated from there. After staying hidden in their place and waiting for the hour when the coast was clear, they had said goodbye and sealed a silent promise with pressing their foreheads together. An intimate sign of affection around these parts. Nothing too secular, nothing too superlative. It showed there was a bond.

But god, Jean knew there was so much more. Marco deserved much more in a safer world and a more pleasant society. The Fall of the Tyrant decades ago brought in a new era where the world moved forward in a graceful, and less obscene direction. The new leader suggested that there had to be just "averageness" among the people. There was never “too much” of something. Nothing was the “best” or “worst.” There is no need to have more emotion about something than anyone else. This is just average. Comparisons were still used, but nothing that would break any balance. That was just the foundation. Then it went to equal opportunities and jobs going to people that should have been given more time in getting involved in that field.

None of the people living here deserved this kind of life. It was unfair and unjust, and that is what his group is trying to accomplish. And he knows that eventually, all of the hard work and sacrifices happening while the Vice President’s back is turned is going to pay off. And he knows it, just by looking at the sweet and hopeful expressions on the heir’s face as the Enemy gives him images of a better, safer world that everyone can live in.

Jean is intent on making this image of reality. And after these visits and meetings with Marco, he thinks that he can get him on his side. He was able to talk to him one more time at the Christmas Eve banquet.

Christmas is not celebrated by most common folk anymore. Despite all of the jobs they had access and equal opportunities for, it was never enough to spend during the holidays. So eventually it became a “rich person’s holiday,” which was a real shame. Hopefully Jean will be able to change that too. He only got into the banquet because Armin was the master of disguise in his Resistance. Together he and Eren were able to make a fake ID as well as patch up an official uniform to make him pass as a soldier coming in to celebrate during the holiday season.

And surprisingly it worked. People are so fucking stupid these days. Either that, or the security guard that was working outside was new. Maybe he just wasn’t meant for the job… like so many people that were in places that they shouldn’t be.

It did take a while for him to find Marco. He was in the back of the crowd, seated by his father. Jean was able to figure out who those bastards should trust, and who they should not. He wasn’t the only group that was going undercover. Another resistance, who planned to annihilate everyone in the Council, was inside as well. One member was currently impersonating one of Marco’s guards. That goes to show that some people just cannot be trusted for the jobs they apply for.

Fortunately, the only person that actually recognized that this was just a disguise was Marco, and that ensured that there really was a bond between them. And that was all he needed to make sure that he could trust him enough to know about the Resistance. And it gives him the will to drive him away from the guard that he knew was intending to assassin him without causing an uproar. Right under the Vice President’s nose, disguised as a common soldier, he was able to have the privacy that he intended to achieve. It was all he needed to take him away from that area so that they could witness the first snowfall on Christmas Eve in over fifty years when they rush out of the stuffy plaza filled to the brim with the stale smells of old cologne and profuse amounts of formaldehyde.

The taste of the wet snowflakes on Marco’s tongue is enough to make him giggle as one lands on his nose. There are many stories about snow that are told throughout the land. It was beautiful enough to cover everything with a pure white blanket, soft and icy to the touch. But it was also so fierce and so dangerous that it caused power outages, ice on the roads, and a sudden halt in the perfect routine kept each day. A good thing for the Resistance, but a bad thing for the Government. It is beneficial for the children that want to go outside and play, build snowmen and forts, and earn their keep by keeping the driveways clean. But these pastimes were long forgotten, and Jean knew that kids would have no idea what to do with themselves. Thinking ahead, he realizes that the Government is much quicker than nature. They would probably have the snow gone by morning.

So they needed to enjoy these blessed, tenacious crystals falling from the endless void of the dark skies while they could. They do so with gusto.

When the security guard stationed outside the banquet hall doors notices their giddiness they rush off to have the fun that they deserve. The locals around them are almost outraged by their behavior, but they don’t stop to care. The smiles and laughter ringing through the streets were just what these people needed.

Jean is afraid that they might be too far gone to appreciate this astounding beauty that the world could offer. That there is more than just a moderately burning sun and an occasional, partly cloudy day. There are blizzards and summer afternoons, rattling thunderstorms and showers of icy hailstones. Cyclones of wind and debris, fast breezes that accelerate to the point where they can cause mass destruction. The world can be so beautiful and at the same time so cruel, and that is what the people needed to see. There was no between here when it came to the place they lived. There are fantastic days, and then there are horrible days. An average day is a day that no one bothered to try and live.

The couple stop right by Jean’s shack. They were able to keep themselves anchored during a sudden gust when Jean moves Marco close to the wall, right by the front door. They smile breathlessly and touch foreheads. Evidently they are very affectionate towards each other. But Jean has read books written before the Government was reformed. These books were what educated him and the whole Resistance of what the world really had to offer generations before for them. And he wants to pass that on to Marco so badly. And he does.

He first holds the shivering boy in his embrace, which Marco eagerly returns to keep warm. Snow is much colder than he thought it was going to be. They share a laugh and their breath fogs against each other’s lips. Both of them are shivering, and Jean cups his chin and has such a glint of excitement in his eyes. He’s ready to pour out everything he knows to this boy, and he knows that it is going to be worth it. His imaginative mind is supple, and it is still capable of absorbing as much information as Jean has to offer. And he’s willing to give Marco all of it.

Words are hard to find in the growing frost, losing their way after passing his lips and flowing with the soft breeze. The best thing that he can come up with as a replacement is to _show_ Marco what knowledge he has to offer. Knowledge of passion, beauty, and turbulence. If he will allow it, of course. His way of persuasion is to lean close, and the brunette moves his head down to mirror him.

His heart aches at seeing such a naive and curious smile on that precious face. But that smile quickly turns flabbergasted when the other pair of soft, warm lips presses against his forehead. A new and curious way of showing affection, if he did say so himself. He isn’t sure what that exactly means, but in a way, it is almost thrilling. No one in the city has ever done that before, not that he knew of. He wanted to try again, maybe find out more.

Jean gives it to him and seals it with what most would refer to as a kiss. Like in the books his brother passed on to him. Stories of the hero saving his maiden and they share a sweet embrace that takes away all the fear that she feels. But this is not a fairytale. The hero is an outlaw, and the maiden is the sole heir to his enemy. This “maiden” is just a curious man that is not sure what good can come from the world if they just stopped living this live and learned how to break free.

That kiss leads to rushed questions, in tones so low that the fog can’t emphasize his words enough. And Jean is eager to answer every single one of them. He tells him of the brighter future once more, like behind the buildings while waiting for the lunch sweeps to end. And he tells him how he can make it happen. He knows that their Resistance has worked hard enough to make sure that after all these years, their plans are going to work. He speaks to him of those stories of the heroes and the damsels, the obvious villains and the cheating traitors that try to prove their worth by sacrificing the lives of others. And then there were the stories that made those heroes and villains less noticeable; the terrifying kinds that everyone finds every single day. He tells him of love and light so powerful that no one in their generation has ever experienced it. He paints this beautiful picture of a world where not everyone can be like everyone else--how there is laughter and sadness, ecstasy in all forms.

Marco wants this world. He wants this beautiful place, and he wants it to be real. He _needs_ it to be real. He doesn’t want the next generation to have this love first. Marco wants this now. He’s not sure how he can make this a reality right away, but all he wants now is a small taste. Maybe more of those kisses. They left a small fire as warm as this thrilling and gorgeous world that he is imagining right now and wants desperately.

His first kiss is a bit forceful, from not being entirely sure how this thing is supposed to work or feel. But he realizes the right way when Jean returns the action smoother, gentler. He likes the way he does it better and lets him take the lead. He let Jean guide him into the little shack behind them. The bed is not nearly as comfortable as his own, but with the two of them together on it, it feels as soft as the smoothest down.

What they are doing is wrong, and Marco knows it. No one ever does this or talks about this. No one ever informs others about kicking off bed sheets and tugging off clothing. Not a single person in this cold world even realizes that there is more to the world than hiding your true skin from everyone else and not feeling the sudden rush down their spines as soft fingertips run over the chilled goosebumps on their legs. No one has ever felt their throat tighten on a shaky gasp as a wildfire is spreading over their body, along the hairs on their chests and the trail going down to their crotch. The hot, wet thrill that Marco never thought he would ever experience is happening now, right on this surprisingly comfortable bed.

Jean is more than willing to give Marco what he needs. Whether it was the slick movements of his tongue or the way that he slowly works his fingers with a “smuggled” bottle of lube and condom in hand (no one can get anything from the Old World these days without having to sacrifice a tooth or nail from it). He soothes his worked up whimpers with sweet kisses, swallowing down the way his name tastes on his tongue. One finger, two, three, slowly opening Marco up for him but the poor boy is shaking and desperate for more. This is what would be a regular occurrence in this new, beautiful world. People show how they felt through warm hugs, the warm sensation of lips pressing against one another, and then there is this hot, fiery passion that makes his blood hot, rush down to his loins, take him over completely until he is absolutely numb from pleasure.

He doesn’t think this can get any better. The only way Marco can describe what happened that night is to mention those chaotic storms that he talked about earlier. It starts out hard to endure, burning and stretching with little relief. The kisses cool down the sudden drought and the build is slow. It’s slow and steady, but Marco easily begs for more. He crumbles underneath the weight of this greedy desire that he has never felt before. The sun is out of reach now, no longer burning so moderately and now covered by a forming whirlwind. It’s cycling downward, sending thrills down his spine every time he hears a breathy moan against his ear. He holds onto Jean so tight like he’s his anchor, his hands gripping his back and his legs hoisted up over his shoulders.

The eye of the storm is quick, that calm pace leaving and replaced by another quick rush. Skin slaps against skin faster and blood grows hotter. It doesn’t get much rougher, but Jean is quick to suddenly find a bundle of nerves that makes his world suddenly stop and go white right before his eyes. The room is echoing with the sounds of desperate, pleading cries of _give me more_ and _right there_ , with whimpers calling out for Jean, Jean, _more, Jean!_ This world is so beautiful, so deadly. It is so wrong and right, not perfect or demanding. It is a disaster waiting to happen. It is Paradise.

And that is the kind of world Marco wants. It is the kind of world that will leave him breathless and begging, learning and adapting, looking for more answers to questions that he never thought he would ask. And this world is making him hotter and taking him higher, urging him to get to where he wants. He brings his iron clutch down and flexes his hand before he quickly strokes his dripping cock, an act that would normally never be discussed. He doesn’t think that anyone has ever really done it either. But this storm is reaching its peak. He can’t hold on any longer and it gets so hot and tight that he thinks he is going to die.

Jean urges him to let go. It gets better on the other side. His eyebrows and back arch and his mind goes numb under the weight of this breathless, tumbling tide.

Paradise has never looked sweeter.

\--

 _And that morning as Jean sits_ up on the bed and looks at the sleeping body next to him, he smiles softly. His fingers run through his dark hair and he breathes in the chilly Christmas air.

Marco wakes up confused and worried, knowing that they had done something wrong but not sure how to take it. But Jean just kisses his worries away. He doesn’t want him worrying anymore. He doesn’t think that he can take seeing that panicked expression on his face again. He does not have to get so worked up anymore. This new world that they want, they are going to get.

Jean is more than willing to trust him and let him join the Resistance, and Marco is more than willing to join. He will protect him with his life, and he will keep him safe from this tyrannical rebirth of power. Jean is not going to let him fall victim to his father’s rule. They are going to be strong, standing side by side or alone. And with this new knowledge of better emotions and new places and such a spiritual power known as an eternal bond, they are unstoppable.

Soon they will let others see how beautiful Paradise is.


End file.
